The Billion Dollar Princess Diaries
by Failure Turtle
Summary: Stephanie McMahon is a teenage girl who just found out that her father wants her to be a big part of his Fortune 500 company when she's older. The only problem is that she just turned sixteen years old. AU. Eventual PaulxStephxJericho
1. Happy Birthday

**A/N: I've been toying with this idea for a **_**very**_** long time.**

**I hope it works well…**

**I probably won't update this often, but that doesn't mean…whatever.**

**Oh, I'm using like more recent years just because it's easier for me to keep track of.**

**Oh, and all of the Superstars are young yet…well, Triple H would have to be.**

_September 23__rd__, 2007 4:54 PM_

I hate my family. I really do.

Tomorrow is my sixteenth birthday. That's pretty darn awesome, if I do say so myself. I'm going for my license, but not like it really matters. I have a chauffer that takes me everywhere.

Sometimes, I hate having rich parents.

Maybe I should explain that bit of information in more depth.

Hi, I'm Stephanie McMahon. My father is _the_ Vincent Kennedy McMahon, the chairman of World Wrestling Entertainment, better known as the WWE. He is a _very_ rich man, which I suppose would make me rich, as well. I don't have to get a job. I would really like one, though.

You see…Every chance I can get to leave this house, I take it.

It's not that I _hate_ this place. It can just get a bit…_frustrating_. My parents fight over me all the time! My mom wants me to be a perfect little angel, and dad wants me to do whatever I want. I like that.

But the thing that _really_ irks me about my mom is…

Well, let me tell you about my best friend, first. Her name is Emily Levesque. I've known her forever. Heck, she's even my next door neighbor. Our windows face each other, leading to successful sneak outs together and late night conversations. I love it.

But then again…

The window below hers belongs to her older brother, Paul. He's a year older than us, making him already seventeen. I kind of have a little crush on him. Emily knows, of course. I tell her everything. I don't even think he knows that I exist. He should, though. He wants to be a wrestler. He has all the strange conversations with my father…when he's home.

My father is rarely home, to be honest. He's always out on the road, making his little television appearances. He doesn't have time for me like he used to, but at least he treats me better than my mom does.

She's home a lot more than daddy is. We live in Connecticut, about twenty minutes away from Titan Towers where she works as the CEO of World Wrestling Entertainment. She's not on the road as often. Usually, when she is on the road, she's making press appearances. Rarely is she ever on television.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, why I don't like my mother right now.

You see, she doesn't really like Paul like my father does. She doesn't want me dating "one of those wrestler boys." Um, mom? My whole life pretty much revolves around wrestling.

Oh, the irony. She just walked into my room.

"Stephanie, darling, tomorrow when we go out to dinner for your birthday, we have something _very_ important to tell you."

She didn't even let me ask about it. She just left.

What a wonderful mother.

At least my dad will be around for this…I hope.

_

* * *

September 24__th__, 2007 11:13 PM_

Okay, now I _really_ hate my family.

I really can't believe this. Dinner was horrible, it really was.

I mean, the food was fantastic. We went to Red Lobster, which is my favorite.

But it's really hard to have a civilized dinner when you're part of the McMahon family. No, it wasn't obscene amount of fans mauling my father and brother.

Let me explain about Shane. He's seven years older than me, making him twenty-three. He's been working as the Executive Vice President of Global Media for World Wrestling Entertainment since he was twenty-one. Good for him. I love how he just had the freaking job handed to him…not. What exactly does the Executive Vice President of Global Media do? Pretty much everything, when you think about it. He deals with the overseas stuff, the publishing, event bookings, digital media, and retail. I'd hate to have his job.

Oh wait, it gets better.

Once we got to dinner, it was Shane, dad, mom, and myself. Well…

"Stephanie, we have a surprise for you," dad said. I could see mom getting upset. This wasn't going to be good. I could tell. "Your mother and I have discussed this, and now that you're sixteen--"

"Vince, I really don't agree with this," mom said.

"Linda, yes you do. We agreed that this would be best for Stephanie."

I don't really think that parents truly understand what is best for their children. I still can't believe what he said after this.

"Stephanie, when you turn eighteen, I'm making you the Executive Vice President of Talent and Creative Writing. Not only that but…"

"Vince," my mom said, warning my father about _something_ that I didn't know at the time. Yeah, I really wish he didn't say what he said next.

"_Linda_. We're home schooling you, Stephanie. Not only that, but I'm going to have you trained for your job title, and you will be training to be a wrestler."

"What?" I gasped. Yeah, because I really want to be a wrestler.

"Yes, you will be a wrestler. I have plenty of ideas for you. Oh, and you'll be training with Emily's brother, Paul."

Not only did my father just force me into something that I don't know if I want to do, he's sticking me with _Paul_. Ugh!

I tried to stay calm, I really did. I don't know if it worked or not, though. "Daddy, what exactly does the Executive Vice President of Talent and Creative Writing do?" I had to use my sweet voice to soften him up. He couldn't know that I was upset. Now, usually, my dad is the one letting me do whatever. Not this time. I know if I complain, he'll hold it against me and be all like, "I let you get away with hell, Stephanie." Ugh.

"You're the boss of everyone, sweetie. You tell the wrestlers what to do. And you're in control of the storylines. You won't be in control of them completely until you stop wrestling after a couple of years, though. I'll have the head writers of the shows help you out, darling." He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. Ugh again.

I think I'll like being the boss of everyone. I mean…yeah. That should be kind of cool. I just don't want to wrestle very much. I don't take pain very well. I cry when I stub my toe!

And Paul being there isn't going to make things much easier.

My dad kept talking about the whole thing on the way home from dinner. Apparently, starting next week, Brian Gewirtz, the head RAW writer, is going to come over and teach me about storylines. Sounds boring.

I need sleep. I would try and get Emily's attention, but tomorrow is a school day for her. I would say for me too, but I'm getting home schooled now. Great.

_

* * *

September 25__th__, 2007 10:45 AM_

I hate my mother!

My dad flew out first thing in the morning. He had to go to Columbus, Ohio, for something.

My mom just told me that I can't get my driver's license since I have a chauffer. I just want to drive! I want to be able to go to the movies with Emily without some guy following me everywhere. People don't know who I am yet! It's not like I'm going to get randomly kidnapped like she thinks.

This whole job thing better be worth it.

**A/N: Does this work at all? I'm not entirely sure yet…**

**Review.**


	2. Storylines

**A/N: Um, about other Superstars being younger…Maybe. I just had an idea about a **_**certain**_** Superstar being in here (because his father is the new head writer for ECW. Do you really need me to extrapolate?) but he'd be really, really young yet…I just did some research and he'd be SEVEN. So maybe some other Superstars…**

_September 30__th__, 2007 11:12 AM_

Welcome to my own personal hell.

Okay, so maybe saying that it is hell around here is a bit harsh, but I come from a harsh family that lives in the harsh wrestling world. Is it really that harsh? I don't know, but that's what Mr. Gewirtz said to me.

Oh, I should probably tell you what the hell is going on. Well, this morning, my mother woke me up at seven in the freaking morning and told me to make myself presentable in business casual wear. Yuck! I hate that stuff. Anyways, now I'm stuck in black dress pants and a really ugly maroon blouse that is too big for me. Double yuck. About an hour later, Mr. Gewirtz came over and started talking to me about stupid storylines. This is how the morning went…so far.

"Good morning, Miss McMahon," Mr. Gewirtz said, shaking my hand. Emily would get a kick out of me being called Miss McMahon.

"Miss McMahon? Um, can I just be called Stephanie?" Seriously, Miss McMahon? That makes me sound like a prudie princess. I like Stephanie just fine, thanks.

"Oh, I'm sorry Miss…I mean Stephanie." I think he was embarrassed. I didn't mean for that to happen, really. I think he's just a bit nervous about this since my dad is his boss.

In all honesty, I wouldn't want to work for my father, either.

"So, Mr. Gewirtz, where do we start on this whole storyline shindig?"

Mr. Gewirtz let out a hearty laugh. "Stephanie, since you are not officially a member of the WWE family…Well, you _are_ but you aren't getting paid for it yet…Anyways, we don't need to be that formal. If I'm calling you Stephanie, I must insist that you call me Brian."

Oops. Well, at least I can stop writing down "Mr. Gewirtz." "Brian" is so much easier.

"Sweet deal, Brian. So…I don't really know how this all works."

"It's not that hard, Stephanie. A storyline is exactly what it sounds like. It's kind of like the script of a movie. It tells the Superstars what is going to happen, so we're basically like one huge soap opera with a lot more blood and fighting."

I hate soap operas. They're so boring.

"What if I can't really think of any ideas for storylines?"

"Well, that's what the writers are for. You really just oversee us and tell us if we, to use the language you're used to, suck or not."

"I think I can handle that, Brian. But how do I know if it sucks or not?"

"Imagine it as a television show like…that Laguna Beach junk on MTV. Do you watch that?"

"Heck no."

"Okay, good, because that was a horrible example. That stuff is more scripted than wrestling is, anyways. So, you'll look over the storyline, and if it is something that you wouldn't want to watch, then you know it sucks."

We spent the next two hours like that, just talking about what sucks and what doesn't. Apparently, comedy doesn't suck if it's done right, which I guess sounds right. I don't really like that romance junk, either. That's probably because I've never had a boyfriend.

And thinking of Paul doesn't make it any better.

So, right now, we're on a lunch break. I'm spending my time writing this and listening to Brian talk to my mom. I guess my dad is out on some business trip or some television thing. Shocker.

_

* * *

September 30__th__, 4:28 PM_

Thank god that's over.

When it ended, I swore to myself a bit loudly, and my mother heard me. I think being sixteen is getting to my head. Maybe it wouldn't be if my parents weren't just tossing me into the insane work world that is the WWE.

Brian left about an hour ago. After lunch, we spent a whopping total of three hours going over what we had already gone over. How sad is that? I'm not an idiot. I really don't think that Brian thinks I'm an idiot. I just think this was all my dad's doing. He probably just wanted to make sure that I understand each and every point that is the storyline process. It's not like it's that hard. I mean, RAW is only the most popular television show in the history of…life.

Yeah, I have a lot on my plate.

Not only that, but guess who starts wrestling training in two days?

That's right. Me. Oh, and Paul.

Did I mention that he called me like half an hour ago? Yeah, you'd figure that I'd be a bit more excited about this, but I'm really not. To make it worse…I'll explain.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Steph. It's Paul. I'm calling from Emily's phone because I didn't want you to freak when your caller ID showed a number that you didn't know."

Okay?

"Hey, Paul. What's up?"

"Well, I kind of want to see you when I tell you this, so…Could you go by your window? I'm in Emily's room."

Of course I walked over to my window. Heck, he could probably get me to jump out of my window if he asked me to. "Hi Paul," I waved. To make matters worse, Emily was standing behind him and dancing, making kissy faces at me. Thanks, Emily. Way to be mature and act your age.

"So, your big, bad father is hooking us up with a trainer the day after tomorrow at noon. He would have told you himself, but he's pretty busy right now."

When he said "hooking us up," my mind went to a totally different place. Is that bad? But what really _is_ bad is the fact that my father couldn't tell me himself. He told my neighbor before he told me? What a great father. I can tell he really cares about my future in the business. Whatever. I know he's like in love with Paul, and I really can't blame him for that.

"Oh, that's pretty cool. Are you excited?"

"Hell yeah, I'm excited. I've wanted to do this…forever. Aren't you excited? You live with wrestling royalty, Steph. I'd kill to be in your place."

Really, Paul? Because we'll switch. I'll move in with Emily because she and I are practically sisters as it is. You can be adopted by my father since he already loves you as a son. Deal? Sweet.

"It's alright, I guess. I mean, I don't really _want_ to wrestle, but I don't really have a choice."

"You'll love it, Steph. I know you will. Anyways, I've gotta go eat dinner and lift some weights. See you in two days."

After we got off the phone, he left the window and exited Emily's room. Emily blew me a kiss and closed the glass pane. I suppose she had to go eat, too.

Screw this. I'm going to make a fool out of myself.


	3. My Best Friend's Boyfriend

**A/N: Wow, long time, no update. Oh well. Not like anybody's really reading this anyways.**

**Okay, I decided to put a Superstar in here. I'm a big fan of the actual Princess Diaries books, and while reading the latest one, I had an idea...**

_November 1__st__, 2007 3:16 PM_

I can't believe this. As if I thought my life couldn't get any worse, it did. I HATE MY LIFE!

This. Sucks.

Okay, I know I shouldn't be whining about something I haven't explained yet. Well, here it goes.

Emily has a boyfriend.

And no, not just _any_ boyfriend. Her boyfriend isn't a Joe Schmo from down the block.

Nope.

Her boyfriend is the son of one of my dad's best friends. Her boyfriend _is_ Paul's best friend. Her boyfriend, I just found out, has already started wrestling training from his father and his father's friends.

Her boyfriend is also one of the hottest guys at our high school (besides, Paul, of course, but he doesn't count). He has amazing legs that we like to check out during swim meets because he's on the team and he's not wearing pants.

Emily is dating Randy Orton.

How did that happen? When did my life become such a travesty that my best friend is dating a major hottie and I can't even land her brother?

WE'RE NOT EVEN THAT COOL AT SCHOOL!

All of the girls think I'm some super loser because I come from _the_ family of wrestling. Guys think it's cool, but they just see me as their ticket to Wrestlemania or something. Screw that.

My life is officially over. I am now second in line to my best friend, and it's all because she can now run her hands along Randy's amazing thighs at her will.

What the heck is wrong with me?

* * *

_November 1__st__, 2007 4:00 PM_

I am not jealous of Emily and Randy's relationship. I swear. I am not jealous of their relationship that hasn't even really started yet.

I'm just upset with the fact that she has a BOYFRIEND and I can't even get a FRIEND that's a BOY.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I START WRESTLING TRAINING WITH PAUL TOMORROW!

Excuse me while I hyperventilate now.

* * *

_November 1__st__, 2007 6:57 PM_

"It was a spur of the moment kind of thing."

Yeah, sure it was, Emily. I know she's been crushing on Randy for freaking EVER (but who hasn't?). I don't blame her for jumping on that while she had the chance.

"I'm happy for you, Emily. I really am."

I actually am. I'm happy that she's happy. If I wasn't happy for her, then what kind of a friend am I?

But Emily doesn't read this journal.

I'm not backstabbing her or anything. I just wish that I could be as pretty as Emily.

I just wish I could be as NORMAL as Emily.

Great. Now my phone's ringing and I don't recognize the number. Excuse me while I fight off this telemarketer…

* * *

_November 2__nd__, 12:01 AM_

…

I so would have…

This should have been down hours earlier, but I've been freaking out for the past four hours.

WHY ME?!

Words are totally failing me right now. If I try to verbally speak, all that comes out of my mouth is just pointless babble that no one can comprehend. It's more like moans of anguish, to be honest.

THAT NUMBER WAS PAUL'S NUMBER!

"I jacked your number from Emily's phone. I hope you don't mind." Why would I? "It's just that talking on her pink phone makes me feel less manly."

Well I wouldn't want that, now would I?

"That's okay, Paul. I don't mind." He can call me any time he wants.

"I suppose you heard about Randy and Emily," he said.

"Yeah, I've heard of it. They're cute together."

"They are? Really? I don't really approve of it."

!!

"Really, Paul? Why not?"

"It's weird, isn't it? I mean, it's my sister and my best friend, Steph. That's just not right. When Randy should be over here to watch wrestling with me, he'll be sucking face with my little sister. That doesn't sit well with me."

So much for me being jealous. Looks like this is going to end before it even really takes off.

Paul _always_ gets what he wants.

Too bad he doesn't want me.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

"Huh?" I said, forgetting all about wrestling training. "Oh, yeah, I guess."

"Alright, well it's getting late and I want to get up early to pump some iron before training. See you tomorrow, princess."

WHAT?!

I'm sure he meant that in the sense that my father is the KING of wrestling, but still.

I'll be Paul's princess if he wants.


	4. Break the Walls Down

_November 2nd, 8:43 AM_

Okay, I suppose that I got my full eight hours of sleep, right? Honestly, I can barely remember last night's conversation with Paul. I had to reread last night's journal entry to make sure that I wasn't dreaming. Then I saw that I wrote that just past midnight. So it's almost nine in the morning, and I guess that would mean that I got a lot of sleep, right?

WRONG!

I spent all of last night freaking out and nearly having panic attacks just _thinking _about today.

I swear on my life that if I don't die from embarrassment, then this wrestling thing is going to kill me. I know I'm going to do something retarded like land on my head and break my neck. Or I'll just die from seeing Paul shirtless. Either way, this doesn't look good for me. I guess today shall be the end of Stephanie McMahon.

Not that anybody would miss me, really. Emily has Randy now. She doesn't need me as her best friend. Randy is like her best friend that she gets to fool around with, that lucky girl.

I'm just trying to breathe calmly now. Training starts in two hours. My guess is that Paul is at the gym already, trying to be a good boy and already suck up to the instructor. Not like it matters, really. My dad basically guaranteed him a job for when he's done training. Oh, how I wish I knew what it was like to have my whole future planned out for me.

Oh wait, I do. Ugh. Why can't I make my own decisions? Why can't I just choose my own future?

I guess that's the price of being the daughter of Vincent Kennedy McMahon.

* * *

_November 2nd, 11:30 AM_

It's only been half and hour and I'm already bored out of my mind.

Our trainer is Dave Finlay. Paul almost had a heart attack when he found out that Finlay was our teacher. He was all, "OH MY GOD IT'S FIT FINLAY!"

I was all, "Okay."

I haven't done anything yet. Finlay is working with us for a bit, one at a time. He said something about there being a big difference between the art of male and female wrestling.

Whatever. It just gives me more time to watch Paul run around. Does that make me a bad person?

"Stephanie, it's your turn," Finlay said, calling me up from the bench.

I'm going to die.

* * *

_November 2nd, 6:53 PM_

Oh.

My.

GOD!

I hurt _so_ bad! I had to learn how to take bumps and it really, really hurt. I had to slam myself on the floor and onto my back. Um, ouch, much? I'm laying on my bed on my stomach and my mom put a huge ice pack on my back. The physical pain mixed with the freezing ice does not feel good.

The pain is almost taking my mind off of another huge thing, and it wasn't Paul.

There's another student training with us.

I seriously thought God entered the room when he walked up to us.

His name is Chris Irvine, but he said to refer to him as Jericho. I didn't get it, but that's okay.

He's tall, blonde, and nearly perfect. His passion for wrestling rivals that of Paul. I really hope these two don't end up hating each other.

They seemed to get along. After I declared that I was in too much pain to continue throwing myself on the ground, Finlay taught Chris and Paul how to lock up. My, my, my, what a girl wouldn't pay to see them fight. Seriously. I was just about dead.

It was strange, though. I found myself staring more at Chris than I was at Paul.

I must have been pretty stupid to believe that Paul was the end all be all of guys my age.

And for some reason, talking to Chris was really easy. It was way easier than talking to Paul. Maybe it was because Chris talked about more than just wrestling. He liked movies. He likes going places. He had a life.

Chris made me realize that maybe Paul isn't the right guy for me and that maybe I should give up on him.

Chris seems a lot more interesting than Paul right now.

Should I go for it?

Maybe I should call Emily.

* * *

_November 2nd, 8:04 PM_

"YES!"

Emily screamed that in my ear when I asked her if I should go after Chris. Wow. That was easy.

"Seriously, my brother is so jealous of him right now. He thinks Chris has more talent than him. And he's worried that your trainer likes him more. Personally, I think it's funny. Boys are so lame."

"But Emily, I've liked your brother for a long time."

"EW STEPH! My brother is disgusting! How could you like him?"

"Emily, you've known that I like him for a long time!" I shrieked back. I really hope that she's just playing dumb.

"I know, but it's _Chris_. Haven't you heard about him? He goes to the school across town. Every girl in the tri city area wants him. You could have him!"

"You think?"

"Yes. Yes I do."

I don't know about this.


End file.
